


Make the Best Of It

by kenporusty



Category: The Hobbit (2012) RPF
Genre: Cranky Dean, M/M, Smut, caravan sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-22
Updated: 2013-04-22
Packaged: 2017-12-09 05:21:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/770465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kenporusty/pseuds/kenporusty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Richard and Dean make the best out of an otherwise disappointing caravan holiday.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Make the Best Of It

**Author's Note:**

> For RedShiloh, who gave me the prompt and encouraged me the whole way.  
> And for BluePeony for the emphatic encouragement and believing in me when I freaked out I wasn't good enough, and/or this fic was terrible.
> 
> I love you ladies.
> 
> THIS IS WHAT COMES OUT OF SKYPING PORN AT WORK!
> 
> My first Gormitage, I hope you guys find it acceptable ;-;

Dean was cranky.

It was day three of being stuck in a caravan with Richard in the Welsh countryside.

"Well sorry I pulled you from the land of sunshine and rainbows to our dreary land for a holiday together." Richard was feeling equally cranky.

With the non-stop rain, they hadn't gotten around to any of their planned activities.

Except fucking.

"I'm sorry, Rich, I'm just feeling cabin feverish." Dean nested himself between Richard's thighs, leaning his back to the older man’s chest, stretching his legs out with Richard’s on the sofa cushions.

"We could go back to London, or up to Liverpool." Richard offered.

Dean sighed, digging a shoulder into Richard's breastbone playfully. "What, and have to keep it down? I got tired of that on set as it was. I'm going to enjoy screaming your name, thank you very much."

Richard laughed at the jab, then growled low in his chest, bringing Dean's head around to kiss him roughly. The strong fingers of his other hand traced the stark planes of his chest and abdomen, pinching lightly at the small paunch at the waist of his boxer briefs. Dean made a strangled noise at this, bucking against the hand holding him down. The grip loosened, guiding the smaller man up and around so Dean straddled Richard’s hips, blanket pooled around his knees.

"Remember the first time we fucked?"

"Yeah, you told me to ‘bite the pillow, I’m going in dry.’ Honestly, Richard, I thought you were oblivious to memes." Dean managed to say dryly.

The last three words came out garbled, ending in a squeak. Richard's thick fingers were teasing at Dean's entrance through the fabric. Dean propped himself on Richard’s chest and gave him an affectionate look.

“Got stuff?” he breathed in Richard’s ear. “Out here, I mean.”

Richard didn’t say anything, just rolled sound in his chest, twisting to pull a silver packet and bottle from the end table. He dropped them on the floor, returning his focus to the blonde astride his hips. Fingertips slid up toned thighs, sliding under the thin material of boxer-briefs to tease gently at the half-hard cock hidden beneath.

“Think you need to lose those.” Richard suggested, pulling at the waist of the shorts.

Dean smirked and complied, standing, shucking them off. Outside the rain picked up, adding a steady rhythm to his sped-up pulse. Richard’s cobalt eyes tracked the motion, lingering on Dean’s body, memorizing every muscle, every angle. Dean caught the scrutiny and blushed.

“I think,” he sunk to his knees, kissing the sharp bones of Richard’s hip, “you need to match me.”

Richard laughed softly, locking eyes with Dean as he pushed his own boxers down, wriggling free and kicking the garment God knows where. Dean laughed, resettling on Richard’s lap.

“You are such a dork,” Dean’s lips met Richard’s.

“Takes one to know one,” Richard sighed.

He cupped Dean’s face as they kissed, hands travelling, mapping, exploring. Arousal making itself well known and rather insistent.

Richard’s hand moved, returned, and Dean - lost to the sensation of the kiss - jumped at the chill, slick waiting for permission.

“Bed or here?” Dean asked, breathless.

“Kitchen counter?” Richard sounded hopeful, pressing in slightly.

“Fuck no.” Dean groaned, throwing his head back. Richard’s eyes tracked the column of his neck and the movement of his Adam’s apple as he swallowed.

"Fuck," Dean hissed, Richard's large finger stretched him out. Dean took a couple calming breaths before nodding for Richard to continue. Dean's forehead hit Richard's shoulder as he worked his finger slowly into Dean.

One was joined by two, scissoring and stretching.

Richard nudged him forward so Dean straddled his shoulders. Richard shifted, holding Dean up by his ass alone, fingers still embedded and working. Those blue eyes closed and he came forward to swallow Dean’s hard cock.

“Jesus Richard,” Dean panted.

Words died in his throat as Richard matched the rhythm of his fingers to his mouth, drinking deep the taste and sounds of Dean above him. Fingers crooked and glanced off the knot of nerves. Dean almost lost himself.

Richard hummed around Dean, licking the leaking pre-come from the head of his cock, pulling off with a wet pop. With a purr, he guided Dean back to grind against his ass.

A stream of filthy, pornographic words came steadily from Dean as Richard worked his fingers. Richard's mouth occupied the thick column of Dean's throat, nipping and biting, soothing the angry red marks with a wide, flat tongue.

Dean fumbled, finding Richard’s hard, waiting cock. Fingers expertly wrapped around the shaft, working in time with Richard’s hand.

Their words blended to a white noise of lust, and want, and need.

Richard removed his fingers, Dean whined softly. He felt Richard move under him. The need haze cleared enough to see Richard holding the silver packet between his teeth. Smiling, Dean leaned down and deftly took it by the opposite corner, dropping it into his hand and tearing open the package.

Richard allowed himself to be prepped, watching Dean, worrying his lip.

And rolling his head back with a sharp intake of air as Dean sunk down slowly, hissing at the intrusion. When settled, Richard grabbed his hips and shifted them to be comfortable, teasingly rolling his hips into his partner. Dean growled, slapping a hand uselessly against Richard’s chest, earning a laugh from the older man.

“Ass,” Dean said softly.

“Quite a nice one, too,” Richard smirked, “can I move now?”

Dean breathed and relaxed, nodding, “if you don’t, then I will.”

Richard gripped Dean’s hips, rolling his up into Dean.

Dean groaned in time with Richard at the sensation. Too long had he gone without this feeling: Richard filling him completely, his cock brushing his prostate, making him see stars.

Toys were nice, but they were nothing compared to the man below him now. The debauched man, head rolled back, eyes closed, lip between his teeth as he thrust. The man whose hands scrabbled occasionally for purchase on Dean’s hips, the most filthy moans coming from somewhere in the perfect chest.

Dean tipped forward, biting and kissing his way up Richard’s chest to suck a purpling mark on his collarbone. His own breathing matched Richard’s: desperate, fast, needy.

A hand disengaged from Dean’s hipbone, wrapping around his neglected, weeping cock, jerking in time with Richard’s thrusts.

Dean swore, feeling release rushing to greet him. He buried his face in Richard’s neck, panting silent words.

“Fuck, Richard, going to come,” Dean interjected into the unspoken platitudes.

“Good. Come for me,” Dean felt Richard say. The hand on his cock sped up.

Dean’s breath came ragged against Richard’s neck. He desperately kissed Richard, muscles tightening, shuddering, as he came over Richard’s hand and chest. Richard stroked him slowly through his climax, stilling his hips. Dean shivered once more.

“Go ahead,” he whispered to Richard. “I want to feel you come.”

Richard began again, still close to the edge, fucking up roughly into Dean, jagged and uncoordinated. He arched his back, burying himself deep in Dean as he came.

Dean stroked his chest through his orgasm, wrapping his arms around Richard’s shoulders, cradling his head.

Richard laughed softly, post orgasm giddiness taking hold, “feeling less cranky now?”

“Infinitely,” Dean kissed him fervently.

Richard pulled out, and slipped out from under Dean, disposing of the condom, wiping his chest and hand clean, and filling a glass with water. Dean rocked back, stretching taut muscles, wrapping the neglected blanket around his middle. Richard paused, admiring the disheveled man on the sofa.

“You always cover yourself up afterwards. It’s like you still have a shred of modesty.” Richard smirked.

Dean shrugged, “comfortable.”

Richard chuckled, sneaking in to sit next to Dean, pulling his legs into his lap. “And you’ve appeared in various states of undress on television.” He offered the glass of water, pulling the blanket free of Dean’s waist.

Dean squawked, scrambling for the blanket.

“Leave it,” Richard purred. “You’re too handsome to cover up.”

“And you are a big sap.” Dean countered, taking the glass with a long drink.

“I never said otherwise, and you should know that by now.” Richard massaged Dean’s calves. “Rain stopped, fancy taking a drive somewhere?”

“Anywhere in particular?” Dean asked.

“Thinking pick a road and drive until we feel like turning around?”

Dean smirked, “sounds perfect.”


End file.
